Efficacy
by BrookeSutter
Summary: "His head could not wrap around the complexity of her bent code that pardoned him for the actions he performed in the name of war, in the name of survival, but failed to excuse her for her own." Post-Finale.
1. Chapter 1

"_Seeing their faces every day is just going to remind me of what I did to get them here."_

Three Months Later:

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

The soft burning stench of meat wafted through her nose as she sat around the small fire. She felt a hand on the small of her back, tickling down her skin in semi-comforting motions—if comfort is defined solely on skin to skin contact. Clarke bit her lip and stared into the flickering flame, unaware of what she should say to the boy next to her. "Fox?" He nuzzled his nose into her hair but she flinched at the use of her fraudulent name. How could she not shake at the mere memory of her dead friend? It was by her own design that she carried the shame of their actions, the grief for their dead, and the constant reminder of their personal deterioration. It was by her own _carelessness_ that she was in 'Delphia, formerly Philadelphia. She thought about going to Polis—she thought about joining Lexa for the pure benefit of familiarity but she reframed from doing so. Seeing _her _face would just remind her of what _they both _did for their people and her betrayal and the choices she had to make in the absence of Lexa's army—killing _Maya…_killing _Wallace… _

"Hm?" Clarke turned her face towards Jason. She didn't know his last name and she didn't need to, Jason was a temporary filler until she regained her health from her difficult journey. In theory, it was reckless to embark on a trip without adequate supplies but she couldn't step foot into camp—and she couldn't turn back to see all that she left behind, either. Clarke could close her eyes sometimes and see the moment _his_ heart broke before her. _Bellamy. _His name still produced a burning sting in her eyes when she dared to recall their goodbye. She remembered having to pull herself from him, how she had to harden her features so he couldn't see her tears, her momentary hesitation as his embrace sought to comfort the pain away—actual comfort, not just skin to skin contact.

Jason's ashen skin, touched by silky caramel pigments looked gorgeous against the flame but her attraction never extended past the physical mile marker. He tried for more, he really did, but she could not _extend _her heart to him. "What are you running from?" He nudged her with his shoulder, a slight nervous smile on his lips as he sought to pry open the confines of her solitary-born soul. She never thought she would _miss _prison but suddenly, she wasn't so sure that she wanted to be free. He could easily be talking about their sexual relationship—how she never stayed in his hut when she had the opportunity to do so on so many occasions. Or he could be addressing the way her eyes seemed to be scouting every possible exit of the small camp when things were steadily falling into her lap.

Naturally, she found herself in the healing position in the small settlement. But she was too terribly broken to continue to wrap wounds and stitch deep cuts without shaky hands and memories. Without thinking of the first injury she treated on Earth—Wells… or the second, Octavia—the girl who hated her, and rightfully so…or even the third, Jasper. Jasper who _hated _her, too. She answered calmly, matter-of-factly, "People around me _die._" Her words weren't a whisper, simply plain and audible to anyone within distance.

He knew she had a past even if she did not know the details of said past. Of course, he knew some of the details indirectly. The story of Clarke of the Sky People seemed to spread like a wildfire through the nations and she wondered who told the extravagant, embellished tale. Lexa? The other grounders? She might smile if Indra sat around the fire and told the story of the brave little princess that murdered hundreds of people for her own. Did they think she was noble? That she did the right thing because her people won the war? If they'd lost, would she still be the rumored hero or the evil villain? "But what are you running from?"

"Myse—" Clarke stopped talking, narrowing her eyes in the direction of the newcomers in camp. She was still considered a stranger, but a well-liked stranger—a person deemed remotely harmless, if they only knew the truth… "Why are they here?"

Jason's lips tipped into a frown, "Gathering troops for a widely supported cause. Uh, after the recent alliance the Tri Kru made with the Sky People…things have become highly _tense. _There are some that do not agree with the trespassers." Clarke prevented her eyebrows from furrowing, nodding with a stone-like expression across her features as she urged him to continue. "They are scouting for warriors, men and women to rid our joint nations of the enemy."

Her teeth slammed together at his words and she tried to prevent herself from showing any emotion. _They're in danger. My people are in danger. I need to warn them—_

_Bellamy will take care of them. _

"I don't understand…I thought there was peace."

Jason bitterly laughed, "Peace is an illusion, Fox. Even a girl like you should know that to be true."

_They're still recovering…they aren't prepared for another war or another fight. _

-x-  
Bellamy  
-x-

The sound of a pencil rolling across the table snapped him out of his daze. No one bothered to ask where his mind went when he got _that _look in his eyes—the look that never truly faded after they turned their backs to one another and marched into separate worlds. He was thinking about Clarke, again. He was thinking about how he missed his closest friend, finding that Miller didn't compare anymore in light of things. Bellamy wasn't a fool, he knew when Clarke made up her mind that it was _final. _There were plenty examples to elaborate on her stubbornness and her darkened will power, killing Wallace for one.

He was positive that she would have something to say about the messy lines he'd drawn across the map, how they were weak and how the map wasn't exactly accurate. He was also positive that they would have argued on the subject. He fondly smirked at the concept of arguing with Clarke until his smirk fell when he realized he hadn't heard her voice in nearly ninety days—something he would have formerly viewed as a blessing, now his biggest curse. Bellamy picked up the pencil only to toss it back down in frustration after he thought about her goodbye a second too long.

Bellamy understood why she left; he really, really understood why she turned her back on the life they'd constructed, the life they could have tweaked and perfected until there was beauty once more. He blamed himself, really. How could she find the words when he was so close to giving up—so close to leaving the camp they built because he was scared and guilty? How did it feel like a personal failure watching her leave? Why couldn't _he _find the words to make her stay? Why couldn't he just spill his guts?

_I need you. _

Because he certainly needed her to yell at him, boss him around, argue with every decision he made until he proved he was right or found flaws in his system. Because he honestly needed her to stand by his side so he didn't feel so alone in his _promotion. _It was Clarke who made the tough calls, it was Clarke who made the sacrifices—Finn, the grounders in TonDC, her morality, her faith, and her sanity— and he was carrying her title as unofficial leader. He still had a gun on his hip, he still had his sister, he still had _most _of his friends—even more than he ever imagined he would.

And as far as he knew, Clarke could have died of dehydration four hundred miles away from the very dark room in which he sat.

He couldn't understand how her words—the words that brought him so much solace after their day trip, after the events with Dax—weren't good enough for _her _but enough for _him _to move forward. His head could not wrap around the complexity of her bent code that pardoned him for the actions he performed in the name of war, in the name of survival, but failed to excuse her for her own.

Bellamy furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the full cup across from him.

"_Have one for me." _

-x-  
Jasper  
-x-

Jasper wiped a hand across his nose, a sniffle vibrating through the night air as he glared at the fire. In his other hand, he held the dingy googles he'd arrived on Earth with—a reminder that he wasn't that _boy a_nymore. He sighed heavily as he heard footsteps approaching him, "Not now Monty…" he whispered, then more quietly, "Not ever."

"It's not Monty." Octavia informed him gruffly, "But the boy I know wouldn't be sitting around the fire, drunk and alone." She still wore the grounder fashioned clothes but her war paint was long gone from her skin. Her hair remained in the beautiful, difficult looking braids and Jasper _hated himself _for thinking she looked _hot. _

His head shot up, "I'm not the boy you know, Octavia. Not anymore."

"Jasper…"

A wry laughed filled the air, "I've fallen in love twice on Earth." He confessed as he brought the metal bowl to his lips, "First with you…a girl way out of my league. I didn't even have a chance with you and everyone knew it—everyone but me, I guess." He sucked on his lip for a moment, "And then Maya. I fell in love with Maya and she died—no, your brother and my best friend and Clarke _murdered _her."

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He stood up, extending his arm to point in her direction. "Why do you get the happy ending, huh? Why do you get to be with your soul mate—" He sniffled once more, trying to fight back the tears that always accumulated in his eyes with the mere thought of Maya. "Why do _you _get to be happy?"

Octavia snorted, "You think I'm _happy _when I see my closest friend drinking himself to death alone? Or when I see my brother looking at that fucking fence waiting for Clarke to return? You think I'm happy simply because I'm in love?" She crouched down in front of him, placing her fingers on the goggles in his hands, "You're still the boy with the goggles…you're just…_evolving _into someone else fit for this world."

He cracked a weepy smile, "Regular Darwinist, aren't you?"

-x-

**Review if you like it…I'm trying to keep it close to the characters and how I feel they would react afterwards but I'm really just shooting in the dark. Let me know how it is… **

**P.S.**

**Charlie Matheson (Revolution) sort of inspired Clarke's sexual relationship because I feel like Clarke can always go darker and sleeping with someone she doesn't love—doesn't really care for is a **typical **reaction in television dramas. **


	2. Chapter 2

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

Jason took a deep breath next to her as she crawled out of his bed—a simple mattress lifted by crafted wood—but he did not wake. Clarke found some type of relief in his ability to soundly sleep despite her fluid movements to get out of the hut. She grabbed her clothes off the ground, pulling them to her chest. She knew she shouldn't have slept with Jason-he clearly hated the Sky People but she needed to feel a body against hers. She was crashing, she was falling and she needed to feel his body against hers. Not specifically _his, _it could have been anyone's skin. Her fingers laced around the door as she exited, _you don't have to leave this behind…you can stay awhile, plant roots. Join the bandwagon and really forget your life. _Clarke shook her head because she _needed _to leave him, this fake life, behind. She was nationally known-her story moving across rivers, lakes, mountains, plains, valleys-she was becoming this legend. One day, she'd slip up and she wouldn't respond to Fox anymore or she would fall in love...and she would reveal her secret and die for it. In truth, she couldn't come up with a good reason to _stay_, at least not a notion better than her reason for leaving in the first place. She headed towards her own hut, retrieving the bag in which she kept her meager belongings and minimal amounts of supplies before she tip-toed in the direction of the stables.

She recognized they needed their horses, but so did she.

"Hakeem," Clarke mused as she tugged her hand through the horses long black hair, "I'll set you free when this is all over but we have a long journey ahead of us. You see, I'm going home."

The dark shadows of night served as a blanket of obscured comfort, the stars as a directional guide. Clarke was going _home. _

-x-  
Bellamy  
-x-

He crossed his arms, feeling the weight of the guard's uniform on his body as he moved. He spent a lot of time looking at the entrance of Camp Jaha, unaware of what he was really looking for in the deep darkness that radiated around him. Bellamy reminded himself that he _asked _for this shift so he wouldn't have to deal with the persistent questions from Miller—or Raven—or even Abby Griffin about the status of camp and occasionally is mental health.

"_Why did you get the goodbye? Why didn't she—why couldn't she tell me she was leaving?"_

That was Abby's constant question although it came out differently each time she asked it—more distaste, sometimes sadness, and pain always circled every word like a calligraphic stab in the chest. He didn't know the answer, so he usually just stared straight ahead in an arrestingly cold state. Bellamy's grip on his gun tightened as someone rounded the corner of a building. Everyone was supposed to be asleep or at least humoring the idea of rest.

Clearly, Octavia still carried problems with authority. "What are you doing out here?" He asked, his voice equivalent to rocks sliding against a rusty metal grate. He cleared his throat and met his sister's narrowed eyes. She always had a way with ripping him apart like no other.

She crossed her arms to her chest, "I don't know why you're waiting on _her._"

Bellamy looked up at the sky to hone in some of his thoughts before he replied to Octavia. She was so angry—so betrayed by Clarke that she was blind to everything in front of her. Blind to his choices, blind to her own in the name of war. He finally decided on denial, "I'm not waiting on her." _I am. _

"Yeah and you're also not screwing half the camp." Octavia snorted sarcastically. He didn't like listening to his little sister recount his sex life. It was quite disturbing-he made a mental note to be more discreet. "Odd…really, seeing as you're in love with—"

He shook his head and turned his entire body towards his little sister, "I don't love anyone but _you._" _Lie; I love Clarke the way I love you...differently...but like you. _

Octavia was not satisfied with his answer, "She doesn't deserve you." His sister said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Bellamy didn't know anything about self-worth although he was acquainted with confidence. He knew that he was good at things, but when it came to putting a value on his life especially compared to Clarke...he couldn't. "She slaughtered—"

"We did it _together._" Bellamy defended Clarke, and would defend Clarke when it came to her actions until his last dying breath. "I've listened to you every day for the last three months complaining about the faith people have in her return—I have listened and I have tried to let you heal but you're clearly holding a grudge, an unrightfully inconvenient grudge at that. If you're going to hate Clarke based off of her decisions as a leader—to save these people, our friends—then at least be consistent with your logic and hate me, too." _I don't want you to hate me, Octavia. You're the only person that knows me but I can't let you hate _her. _I can't, Octavia. _

Her brunette hair floated in the slight spring breeze. Clarke missed winter-the struggle, the loss but he was not angry with her because of it. She struggled, too. It was another reason to wonder if she was even alive. "I don't hate her." She squinted her eyes, perceiving every shadow the brush made in the distance like a true warrior. "I do not _like _who she's become, the choices she made or how they glorify her… but I do not hate her. I can't hate her more than she hates herself...but I don't like her, I really don't like her."

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

After seven hours of nonstop riding, her legs were sore and had the consistency of jelly. It was a three day journey using the proper map and route. During her ride, she decided her next location would be farther away from the camp. She would have to push herself _farther _from them. Maybe she could see the ocean… learn how to swim rather than float. Part of her felt like she was making a mistake—going to them, warning them of an inevitable battle but she knew where her _loyalties _lied—not the grounders, not herself…her _people. _

It would always be her people.

Clarke bit her lip as she winced. Once more, she was pushing herself too hard and once more, she was on the brink of collapsing due to her rigorous activities. The skin on her lips proved to be dry, her teeth ripping at it as her thoughts replayed the last time she _felt _wholly cared for—and the memory was fleeting. She would forget it, it would fade one day—a hard embrace, his hand in her hair as he sought to never let her go and her face as she pulled away, furrowing her eyebrows before she truly found the strength to leave. It would fade.

"_May we meet again." _

It was her goodbye. It was supposed to be forever, a parting in which she would never say "hello" again yet, she was _killing _herself in her attempt to return.

"Just a little longer Hakeem." She told the horse softly, "And I promise we will rest."

-x-  
Reviews make me write faster: tell me what you think!  
-x-


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

-x-  
Monty  
-x-

"_This isn't your fault." _

Those were the last words he heard his friend say before she left.

Monty hitched the bag up his back and looked forward. He brought the walkie-talkie to his lips, telling Wick to halt the electric current running through the section of the gate. Wick complied begrudgingly, letting a string of words vibrate through the walkie-talkie before Monty switched it to static, dropping it at the edge of the fence before he climbed through. He couldn't _stay _anymore. The pressure of losing the only person that really mattered to him threatened to bring him to tears every day—every hour. Jasper was his best friend. And now, with the exception of Wick and Raven, he had nothing to look forward to. If Clarke did it, he could too—right?

He put one foot in front of the other. _Is this how she did it? Is this how she found the strength to leave the only people she's ever known? _Just one foot in front of the other, if he could make one step—he could make another and another and another until he was far too gone for anyone to stop him.

He imagined Raven would be pissed upon the realization that Wick let him leave.

Probably as pissed as she was with Bellamy—maybe more.

"_You didn't stop her?" _Raven yelled at the top of her lungs despite her miniscule strength. Monty remembered Bellamy just looking straight ahead with that cold, detached expression.

"_She made up her mind."_

"_That's when you fucking drag her kicking and screaming!"_

"_I can't be selfish with _her!_" _Even the memory sent shivers up Monty's spine, "_She needs time, Raven. She'll be back."_

"_You can't possibly know that!" _Raven shook her head, crying like a child. _"Why didn't she say goodbye to me?" _

Abby asked the same question.

Kane questioned her leaving as well but more discreetly, claiming that he could have used her as a leader. In Monty's mind, she was still their leader even if she was gone. Even if Bellamy was behind the scenes with their impromptu leadership defending their limited rights as minors.

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

Half-dead, she started to see familiar territory and with familiar territory the choked up feeling returned. She had to control her breathing but suddenly, it was the first hour of her departure. She thought about returning, she thought about turning around and being with the people she cared about but she _couldn't do it. _As she moved forward, she saw a body in the tall grass. "What the hell?" She said out loud as she jumped off the horse. She landed with a solid _oomph, _brushing her hands off as she tip-toed over to the scrawny lump. "Monty?" Her eyebrows raised as she fell to her knees to check his pulse. She established that he was alive, but he was faint. She shook him, "Monty!" The moment she was met by his brown eyes—full of confusion, then shock and then tears as if he was waiting for her.

"Clarke?" He croaked before he slammed his body into hers in a tight hug. "Clarke…" He cried into her shoulder and she felt so _broken _in the position. She flexed her fingers across his back as she returned his hug, resting her chin on his shoulder in the process. "You came back…you came back just like Bellamy said you would." _He couldn't have predicted this—how irresponsible of him to give them false hope. I'll have to smack him—it shall be required. _

She patted his back until she felt it was safe to pull away. He questioned her with his eyes but she was the one to speak, "What are you doing out here, Monty? It isn't safe."

He let out a strangled snort, "You're one to talk. Where the hell have you been, Clarke?" He asked before breaking out into another sob, "Where the hell have you been?" His voice was so soft, so vulnerable that she threatened to break again.

She wanted to apologize for leaving him—leaving them but she couldn't find it in her heart to apologize for something she wasn't sorry for doing, something she planned on doing again. "We need to get back to camp." He nodded and she hated the hope in his eyes.

If she were the cruel type, she would shake his shoulders and say, _"This isn't my grand return…I'm not staying, Monty…I can't stay. I can't bear the thought of being here and if I didn't love every single one of you—I wouldn't have come back." _But instead, she let him speak. "Yeah, yeah we should I guess."

-x-  
Monty  
-x-

_You saved me. _

-x-  
Bellamy  
-x-

"What do you mean, he's missing?" Bellamy shoved his finger into Miller's chest as if it were personal that Monty stole away in the middle of the night. He knew that Miller carried respect for the guy and he knew that Miller would _take _his anger just to relieve him of the momentary grief of losing another _good friend _to the same cause. _Why are they allowed to leave? Why do you have to stay? _

"He just—"

"Hey!" Raven ran into the guard's tent, completely out of breath. "You're going to want to see this." Bellamy averted his eyes away from the panting girl and brought his attention back to his friend. He didn't have time for another amazing discovery or something ridiculous that Wick did. Monty was missing and nothing could ever make up for the fact that another _friend _was gone. He planned on rounding up resources to bring him back but he couldn't. It wasn't the smart thing to do—waste water, food rations and time on bringing someone back who clearly didn't want to be there.

"Not now, Reyes." He clenched his jaw dismissively before whipping around to face her, "Actually, how the fuck did Monty get out of the gate, huh? Did you help him?" He stepped forward but his menacing tone didn't shake her. She looked like she could take a couple rounds and still smile that wide. It was highly frightening considering the things that made Raven smile—bombs, fire, bullets, and fights.

"Bellamy…" Raven stepped forward with wide eyes touched by tears and immense joy, "She's back."

**Review!**

**Sorry about the cliffhanger!**

**Feedback makes me update faster ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

It was a surreal walking through the gate with one hand tangled in the reins of the borrowed horse, the other gripping Monty's tightly. She did not know what to expect from the people she left. She did not know how they would react upon seeing her. "Monty, I have to tell you something…" Clarke tried to confess to him but she could not find the strength. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest—_thump, thump, thump, thump _over and over again.

People started to step forward—a guard moved to take the horse from her and she nodded slowly. "Clarke, don't apologize for leaving…okay?" Monty told her in his best stern voice—if anything, he sounded understandably exhausted. She could barely feel her legs, the whole walking thing was causing her to lose all of her remaining strength.

_Wasn't planning on doing so… _

Clarke straightened her shoulders, tilting her chin upward at the sight of _him. _He walked so rigidly, so professionally as if they were trying to keep up appearances for the sake of the group. She wanted to run to him, embrace him like before but instead, she tightened her grip on Monty's hand until he said, "Ow, Clarke!" He yanked his fingers from her viper clasp, sending a glare in her direction.

In seconds, they were face to face and she was trying to control her labored breaths. "Bellamy." Her head moved to the side for an instant before she attempted to fix herself. It was too late. The tears were forming in her eyes and he was already moving closer.

And just like that, she was in his arms and she felt _real comfort. _Her nose trailed across his upper shoulder, "Welcome home." He whispered in his ear, kissing her hair much like she kissed his cheek before she left. His fingers tangled in her waves as if he were trying to decide if this was real or not, before they finally pulled their bodies away and _just looked_ at each other. There was something calming about the gleam in his eyes, something that said she was _home. _ His barely kempt hair and guard's uniform looked promising—he was finally getting the recognition that he deserved. The curve of his lips seemed rare, seemed genuine but also forced as if he hadn't smiled in a long time.

It was her responsibility—that's why she left. As leader, their pain was hers to bear. As much as she didn't want to, she knew that she had to kill everyone in the mountain to save her friends. It was her choice and he decided once his back was against the wall—once his sister's life was at risk to join her. He would do anything for Octavia and although he tried to take away some of her guilt, he failed. He couldn't coax her into staying, he couldn't coax her into healing. _Why did you have to come back, Clarke? Why did you have to bring all these feelings back up? _Bellamy was her best friend—an unlikely best friend, yes, but her true best friend. He loves her and she loves him…it might not be romantic, but its _real_ love. It's because of this love and their undeniable connection that she knows he's already reading her like a book, studying her for any damage.

Clarke did her best to shift her readable expressions from his prying eyes so he could no longer scan her for information concerning the last few months. "What's wrong?" His gravelly voice also felt like _home; _it felt _normal_ to her. It felt like battle strategies in the early hours of the morning, like heated confrontations in the drop ship, like seeing him after escaping Mount Weather the first time, finding out that he was alive-it felt right and it felt good and it felt like she could never leave his side again—even if she _had _to leave to keep her head straight. She couldn't stick around and let him ease her pain by taking uniting their guilt. She was not going to let him shoulder the blame with her. She was not going to let him do anything _with her _except save their people.

"We need to talk." She continued to look away from him, her mouth in a firm line. She blinked slowly, her eyelashes touching her cheeks longer than usual. Clarke took in a deep breath before meeting his questioning gaze once more.

There was something unspoken between the two and she didn't want to address it-not yet, she wasn't ready for all the questions concerning her mental state or all of the necessary confessions concerning their time apart. His eyes said, _you didn't come back because you missed it. _He quickly registered her words, though. _Like I never left..._All she could do was affirm his suspicion with her hard glare. After three unsteady heartbeats and a few moments of slight fear, he finally forced his lips to rise into his signature smirk. "Always serious." He told her, nodding his head in the direction of the fallen Ark. "Your mother is in a meeting…I was supposed to be there but because of Monty's disappearance act…" He looked over her shoulder at their friend and frowned before turning his attention back to her. It felt promising to have his eyes on her like that again-someone seeing the real her rather than the invented person she pretended to be for Jason, for the citizens of 'Delphia.

"Want to crash it for the hell of it?" Clarke asked before he extended his arm to her. She looped hers through his, thinking the gesture was out of character but _nice. _He was offering her the support that she needed to walk.

For the first time, she thought of how she looked. Her hair was a mess—wind blown, tangled and dirty. Her eyes were tired and the bags under them told the story of a girl who couldn't decide where she belonged, or where she was going, or why she was even truly _there_. The only thing keeping them sharp were the on-again, off-again tears in her eyes. She hadn't slept in days and maybe that was obvious, too. He would recognized the signs of insomnia. Her skin was a filthy, touched by mud and dust and whatever the hell circled her as she rode. She couldn't look any less attractive if she tried—and she was once covered in mud and gashes. "Mind giving me a heads-up before we barge in there? What's so important-" She didn't want him to finish his question because she knew he was disappointed that she didn't come back for _them _or for _him _due to simply missing their faces or _his face. _She was Clarke Griffin, woman on a mission.

"There's a growing group of grounders, not so much as a group but an army preparing to slaughter us." _Us, _it just rolled off her tongue. She stopped him by grabbing his forearm, "I'm not guessing here, I'm not overreacting…I was in what is formerly known as Philadelphia—"

"You went to Philadelphia?" It was as if he were making a note—a map of her whereabouts in his head for future notice. Maybe she wasn't keeping _any _secrets from him.

"Not intentionally." She cleared her throat, "I just started walking, Bellamy and then I couldn't walk anymore…I don't really want to talk about it—not now at least." Her eyes ran over his face as he kept his lips in thin expression, trying to make himself unreadable. Clarke continued to speak, "There are grounders out there—especially in Philadelphia…" She thought about Jason and the contempt in his words. "that still holster this unfortunate distaste for our people and they are building a force, starting these propagandized campaigns to destroy this entire society. 'Delphia isn't a big community but they've been travelling for some time. Door to door…until they're here."

She watched as he processed it, letting out a large sigh. "Another war?"

"Yeah." She finally released his forearm, stepping back briefly. Clarke swayed which caused him to move forward and balance her. "Thanks." She muttered in exhaustion. His eyes were so brown, so warm that she could fall into him and never let go. When she spoke, she was talking to herself rather than anyone else, "We have to go inside and tell them."

Clarke looked over her shoulder once more to see Monty's face. He was being group hugged by Harper, Miller, and Raven. Her eyes grew misty as her brunette friend turned her gaze to her, mouthing a "Welcome back" to her. Clarke nodded her head because she didn't know what else to do.

Seeing them happy was her curse and her gift.

And it was the most confusing concept she'd ever had to battle.

Something stuck her, "Where's Jasper?"

Bellamy's frown reappeared, "Not everyone can move on…" She felt as if his comment was directed towards her—as if it were clear that she hadn't let it go yet. "But _he _is strong and with time _he _will be able to move past the loss…the war…and _he _will be okay again."

"But _he _won't ever be the same." She wasn't exactly talking about Jasper, either but she also _was _at the same time. The boy with the goggles and the quirky personality would never be the same. The girl with the pink shirt and charcoal on her hands would never be the same. He was a man with blood on his hands that lost the person he _cared a_bout—_loved. _She was the woman who put a knife in Finn, sacrificed hundreds for the people she cared about, the people she loved. "So, shall we?"

He nodded with a tight jaw, "Your mother is going to be happy to see you, you know? She missed you."

"I missed her, too." Clarke said as they walked into the structure, "I missed you, too, Bellamy."

_Review!_

_Thanks so much for the continued support. The reviews are very encouraging. I'm a little concerned about keeping Bellamy and Clarke in character because I'm clearly a Bellarke shipper but I want this to read as realistic as possible but also, I want to mend some wounds from the finale…_

_Any feedback or suggestions are welcome!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

In the solitude of the Med-Bay, Clarke found herself staring at her mother. Abby was mindlessly picking at her hands, wringing out her fingers until she could meet her daughter's eyes-really meet her eyes, not one of those passing glances to make sure she wasn't profusely bleeding or highly injured. They were so much like Jake's eyes in their beautiful hue. Innocent but also dangerous due to their shared ambition—protect the masses, save the people at all costs…whether that be their lives, their sanity, or their morality. Clarke was silent, feeling like her unspoken words were choking her out.

Her mother was surprised to see her—something in her eyes said that she didn't expect Clarke to return in her lifetime. She couldn't even pretend that her mother wasn't rational in her more, Dr. Griffin was underestimating her daughter's love for her people—people she didn't know six months ago. People she would _die _for at any point in time. Clarke nodded her head as an exit line instead of using actual words, she needed to look at maps and discuss strategy with her friends, or friend. Her body twisted away from her and suddenly Abby discovered the words that impaired her from properly greeting her _changed _daughter, "Why did he get the goodbye, Clarke?" Her words displayed her hurt, her pain and her apparent anger. It was all there—the last three months of confusion, grieving, resentment, hate, love and regret. Abby was laying her emotions down on the medical tables and Clarke _could not _understand why she was inclined to turn in the opposite direction away from the confrontation.

Instead, she sighed heavily and let her loud sound echo off the walls. "If I left without telling him goodbye…" _It would be a stab in the back. _"He needed it, okay? He. Needed. It." Her shoulders slouched in defeat as she turned to face her. She couldn't convey her thoughts without looking at her. Immediately, she regretted her decision to meet her brown eyes.

"And I didn't?"

"No." Clarke moved her head back and forth adamantly, "No, you didn't need it like he needed it. He's my partner, mom." _Is_-not _was. _

Abby's face broke and Clarke wanted to offer her sweet words but she couldn't do that. She could not do it. "And I'm your mother, Clarke. I—we—you should have told me you were leaving. I could have made—"

"I didn't want to stay!" It was difficult to overlook Abby's wide eyes but in the end, Clarke managed to turn her face away from her. Clarke's teeth bit into her lip, hard. Her mother continued to think that she could make Clarke's decisions for her—despite everything. _Always going to be the same, mom. You never change._ Although, one could argue that she didn't always make the _best _decisions. Leaving camp with nothing but a gun and grounder armor would be a fine example...she was an adult, now. If she wanted to pack up her entire life and go west, she could do it. Clarke took a step backwards-one step closer to leaving, "I didn't want to stay, mom…I couldn't stay here with them."

-x-  
Jasper  
-x-

He shakily held the nose of the bottle in her direction as a pointer. It was all he had and he wasn't going to point a knife at her. He wasn't stupid, Clarke could definitely take him. He hadn't seen her face in a long time and it was like a brisk slap to his entire body. Like every move she made was another electric shock followed by a splash of dirty water. He followed her as she walked out of the Med-Bay, followed her until she made a wrong turn and ended up cornered. They'd changed the camp layout to accommodate the teenagers. He began to slur his accusations, all his pain and all the pent up anger he'd harvested for her when she cut him off, "I did what I had to do." She said quietly, as if she'd accepted that she _had _to kill all those people to _win. _

"There was another way." He told her, the tears in his eyes as he tried to tell her _again. _"There was another way…"

She shook her head back and forth, stepping forward in a comforting gesture but he took a step back. "I couldn't lose any more of my people, I couldn't lose my family—I couldn't lose _you._" Clarke once more tried to step forward but he took a larger step back and focused his glare on his feet.

"How'd that work for you?" He barked, raising a hand to prevent her from making another unwanted step forward to touch him.

His eyes flew up to meet hers as she straightened her body, the friendly Clarke vanishing but the leader Clarke appearing swiftly. "You can hate me with every breath, Jasper…but at least you're still _breathing." _She watched as his face fell into a sorrowful expression, watched as he started to cry and brought the bottle to his forehead. "I can live with you hating me…and I can live with losing you as a friend…but if you _died…_"

"Clarke." He croaked for her to stop talking and she did before she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You _left…_and I don't want to forgive you ever."

-x-  
Monty  
-x-

He observed Clarke's repeated swaying, "You can stay in my tent." He offered and she nodded her head in acceptance. His tent was really a combination of scrap mental and parachute fabric but he doubted Clarke wanted the details. They were sitting alone near a small fire that he constructed. "What's on your mind?" Monty asked slowly, wanting to relieve his mind of his own demons and focus on hers.

"I am the most hated person here." Clarke's head jerked up but her eyes were droopy and bloodshot with exhaustion. Monty thought if she closed her eyes, she would simply fall asleep. Clarke seemed to have other intentions. "Octavia still hates me…I don't even have to talk to her to feel it radiating from four hundred feet away."

Monty shook his head, "Don't be so sure…last month, your mom started to ration the moonshine. That would make you the _second _most hated person here."

"That's comforting." She snorted, fidgeting with her fingers as her mind seemed to go somewhere else. Monty cleared his throat to regain her undivided attention. He had a thousand questions, a thousand sentences and a thousand bits of useless information resembling gossip to tell her.

Yet, when he met her blue eyes he settled on one question. "What's it like out there?"

She waited a moment before responding, "Lonely…in a crowd of people, _lonely._"

He contemplated what she was saying but his thoughts were interrupted by Bellamy as he made himself known. Bellamy's hands were tightly balled as if he were fighting himself. Hell, if Monty was having a hard time finding words, imagine Bellamy. He was tight-lipped as he moved his hand in her direction before flinging it back to his side abruptly, "If you need somewhere to sleep…" He started to offer in his rough voice but he paused when Clarke smiled warmly. If Monty could capture the sparkle-yes, sparkle-in Bellamy Blake's eyes as he memorized her smile, he would be a rich man...that is if they had currency or any form of a black market.

"Thanks." She said graciously-still smiling, still causing Bellamy to falter. "But I'm going to stay with Monty." _No, go with him! Go with him!_

Bellamy nodded, "Okay. Uh, well, get some sleep. You need it. Big day tomorrow." He turned around quickly and left Monty and Clarke to it.

Monty looked over at his friend, "He missed you the most…and I think having you back is stirring up a lot of complicated emotions." Clarke took a moment to breathe before she let Monty's words sink into her pores. "Bellamy knew you would come back. He knew you would return and it was like he was willing to wait a lifetime to see you again. Every night looking at the gate, waiting—searching for you. Now, he's got everything he's wanted for the last three months. His partner. His friend. And you've got that look in your eyes."

"What look?"

He sighed, "That look that says it's not over. That you're going to leave again and this time you're not coming back."

And she didn't deny it.

_You have to stay...please stay. _

_Review? One of the less eventful chapters. _

_Thanks for the continued support!_

_-Brooke _


	6. Chapter 6

"_Alright, everything is alright_

_Since you came along_

_And before you_

_I had nowhere to run to_

_Nothing to hold on to_

_I came so close to giving it up._

_And I wonder if you know_

_How it feels to let you go?"_

-x-  
Monty  
-x-

There was something about Clarke's return, despite her obvious secrets and possible abandonment, that made him feel _strong. _He walked with his head held high since she found him because he _could breathe. _Monty sat down with Harper and smiled towards her—actually smiled instead of forcing one for the sake of conversation, for the sake of normalcy. There was something brewing between them but he wasn't ready to go down that road. He was kind of nervous to even consider going down that road. He was still tired but for a different reason other than minor bouts of depression and his failed hike away from camp. Clarke doesn't sleep—he didn't realize this until she was laying on her back against the dirt with her eyes closed, screaming.

She screams in her sleep.

It's quite frightening to watch one of the strongest people he knows _fall _into such an awful night terror.

Octavia and Lincoln approached the table because they still had the habit of eating together even if everyone had these unspoken—sometimes not so unspoken—differences. Clarke was somewhere talking with her mother, or Kane, or Bellamy… Monty was trying not to keep tabs on her even if he was afraid she would disappear in the middle of the night. He had to remind himself that she had a mission and she wouldn't be so flighty to just take off when they needed her. But then, he would see a glimmer in her eyes, much like the glimmer he saw last night, that said she wanted to be _anywhere _but Camp Jaha.

"You look tired, Mont." Miller told him with a half-smile. It was supposed to put Monty at ease, supposed to remind him that he had friends around him but Monty couldn't help but look at the other end of the table where his former best friend sat. He missed Jasper. Miller was a good guy—great guy—but he wasn't his best friend. Jasper was idly picking at his food, not eating it quite yet. Monty was used to observing Jasper. He would eventually feel like he was wasting the food and stuff it in his mouth to leave as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, uh, Clarke screams in her sleep." Monty's shoulders circled until he felt the knots move out of his muscles.

Octavia spoke up, surprisingly. "Like yells?"

"No…like _screams _as if she's being attacked or something." Monty clarified and Octavia looked concerned before she hardened her face against any type of compassion for Clarke. He wished she'd stop doing that. Let bygones be bygones. They couldn't go back—they couldn't save the grounders, they couldn't save the mountain people. It was over and clearly everyone had their regrets.

"Good for her." Everyone directed their attention to the end of the table. It was Jasper's post-drunk-night hangover voice. It was slow, it was quiet, it was eerie and it was haunted. Scary, really as if he were a ghost of the boy he used to be. "Hey, _Mont…_" Monty closed his eyes at Jasper's aggressively endearing tone—even using his nickname as a punch in the gut, "Since you're bunkmates and everything, you two compare notes on mass murder yet?"

"Screw you, Jasper." Monty stood up from the table, shocking most of the people they ate with. Monty rarely stood up to Jasper's rude stabs—simply keeping his head down and waiting for Jasper to move forward but this was different.

_Clarke's back. _

-x-  
Octavia  
-x-

Octavia had a plan to confront Clarke. She had several plans, actually, and this hadn't been one. The blonde and the brunette collided as they rounded a corner near the back of camp. The girls shared equally shocked, equally annoyed looks before Clarke straightened herself. In Octavia's opinion, Clarke didn't look too good. Beautiful in a rugged survivalist way, sure but not _well_. She was carrying charcoal pencils in her dirty fingers, walking in the direction of the guard's tent. Octavia cleared her throat, fixing her posture as well. Clarke's face softened, "Octavia…"

"Just because you left, doesn't mean I forgive you." She cut her off with a dismissive hand.

Clarke snorted, which pissed Octavia off. "You don't seem to understand that I don't care if you've forgiven me or not." She wasn't fighting for Octavia's approval, she wasn't trying to persuade her friend anymore. It was like she gave up on proving herself and there was something _unnerving _about a girl like Clarke giving up. "You also don't seem to understand that I'm here to help."

"You don't seem to understand that no one wants you here." _Except Bellamy, Monty, Abby, Kane, Miller, Raven, Wick… pretty much everyone but Jasper and me. _

"Well, trust me it won't be a problem much longer."

Octavia had to swallow her words down like moonshine, _"You're leaving again?" _hung in the air between her faltered stare. She felt like she was cracking because Clarke was clearly going to leave again and that wasn't supposed to make her heart beat faster. It was supposed to put her at ease. _I really don't hate you. _She cleared her throat, "Good." Maybe her words would have been sterner if she wasn't looking at her feet and completely breaking in front of her.

"Clarke, I need your opinion on this map—" Bellamy's voice broke through Octavia's every thought before she stepped away from Clarke and walked in the opposite direction of her brother and Clarke. She needed to talk to Lincoln. She needed to be with Lincoln…but she knew what Lincoln would say—he agreed that Clarke made the decisions of a leader. He didn't exactly agree with her choices on an ethical level but he nodded his head and stoically told Octavia that she needed to put the war behind her. _Always a warrior, not always at war. _

To which she would quietly mumbled, _"Life is a war." _

-x-  
Bellamy  
-x-

Clarke's hair flowed down her back after she let it go from a tight grip, "These lines are completely sloppy, Bellamy. At least try." He wanted to fake anger but he couldn't muster it. He'd been wanting her to ride him about his neatness and unorganized manner for a long time. "Why are you smiling like that?"

He shook his head, continuing to grin as he used the edge of another map to straighten his lines. She was still not satisfied with his handy work so she took the pencil from him and finished what he started. Bellamy observed her concentration, how her tongue darted from her pink lips to wet them as she thought. He inhaled her scent, vowing to never forget how she smelt like Monty's herbal mixture. She was cleaner than yesterday—not that it really mattered if she was clean or dirty or bloody. She was always just _Clarke. _"You, uh, look…you look like you're home, Clarke."

She took in a sharp breath and put down the pencil, "I'm sure Octavia's going to tell you eventually…" He swallowed hard because once more he _knew. _He knew what she was going to say and he felt his heart rise to his throat. "I—"

"I get why you left and I'm not trying to make this hard on you but just, stay…" He told her with those same heartbroken eyes he turned on her when she left the first time. _I need you to stay. _

Clarke eyes widened and shifted to the curves and gashes in the well-crafted wooden table, "I can't do that." She was using her '_I just made an executive decision' _leader voice that said he didn't have a say. He wanted to soak up her sadness like a cloth. It was so clear in her averted eyes. Suddenly, he was standing in front of the camp again and she was saying she wasn't coming in.

_We can get through this._

His hand balled into a fist above the table and he leaned further back in his chair, "Why?" His jaw was tightly clenched as he asked the question. Her eyes were wobbling around the room, avoiding him at all costs. Her hands moved to her lap and she wasn't answering him—not really—and she was trying to come up with something reasonable. He was trying to keep his temper in check. He was trying to see in through her eyes but his selfishness wasn't allowing him to do so.

"I have someone waiting on me." He didn't know how truthful she was being with him. At that point, he didn't care if she had adopted children and a husband waiting for her.

He stood up from the table, hitting it with his legs. The pencils rolled down to the ground as he scrubbed his skin with his rough hand, "I've been waiting on you!" He yelled but it was the deflated kind of fight that held too many emotions behind it to sound menacing. Her chin tilted towards him as she meet his eyes with that overall stone exterior. She didn't want him to see what she was thinking and he didn't like that at all.

"You have to let me go, Bellamy." She said after a moment.

"What if I can't?" _Don't leave me. _


	7. Chapter 7

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

Her teeth scraped her lips as she settled amongst her friends, her blonde hair sitting high on top of her head in a sloppy but proficient bun. The bags underneath her eyes were fading but not due to her getting loads of sleep, just because there was some type of calm in the air despite the chaos. The dining hall was completely different than she thought it would be. Clarke expected four thousand questions about her journey, she'd prepared metaphorical notecards and _everything _but the first question she was asked remotely relevant to her time away from them came from Wick—_Wick. _"Is that a hickey?" He stuffed a chunk of meat in his mouth and glanced at her inquisitively, "Well, well, well looks like the golden girl—" _Does he think referring to my hair color is funny? _"—has a boyfriend. Grounder, I assume. C'mon, spill the beans."

Clarke grinded her teeth together, half-expecting Bellamy to come to her rescue but he never did. He sat across from her, strangely interested in the well-done, thickly sliced boar. She stared at him until she couldn't bear the sight of him. Clarke cleared her throat, "His name is Jason."

"Jason…" Wick acted as if he were tasting wine, his tongue swirling the letters around his mouth as he looked at his girlfriend. "Lovely name. Let me guess, he has big hands?"

"That's enough." Raven told him but Clarke saw the mischief in her eyes, "Clearly he's more talented with his mouth."

_You have no idea… _

The blonde shrugged, "Jason is irrelevant." She knew it was a mistake, she knew she was putting holes in her excuse to Bellamy for leaving but she could not be tied to Jason. Even her lies couldn't make the commitment he wanted her to make. Bellamy met her eyes as she finished describing Jason, "He doesn't even know my real name."

Wick set down his utensil and mocked her with a shocked expression. He placed his hand over his heart, gasping as if he were a pearl wearing patron of an aristocratic society. "My word, Clarke Griffin…are you saying you slept with a _man _without a deeper commitment. Naughty, naughty girl." He thought he was being hil-ari-ous but he was really being a third rate jackass. Somehow, she could overlook it until Bellamy averted his gaze from her. "Were there others?"

She inhaled sharply, "Does it matter?"

Wick shrugged and changed the flow of conversation concerning Jason, "You just leave him in the middle of the night?" She didn't have to answer for people to know that she had. Maybe she'd created an M.O., maybe this wasn't a welcome home dinner but a farewell. Maybe this was the last time she would have a moment with all of her friends. The last time she would see Miller laughing with Monroe about some inside joke, or the last time she would see Octavia nuzzling her face into Lincoln's shoulder, or even the last time she would see Jasper drinking far too much but still finding the strength to send a small smile towards Octavia. Would it be the last time she saw Bellamy clearly trying to bite his tongue until it was no longer connected to him? Or the last time Monty trained his knowing gaze on her face? "Did you even have feelings for him?"

Clarke sighed, "I like to pretend I care…but honestly, I can't find it in me to care about Jason."

-x-  
Bellamy  
-x-

Two hours passed after Clarke's romantic life became common knowledge around the table. He desperately tried to focus on anything _other _than Clarke throwing herself into a string of one-night stands as if she had no self-worth or as if she were truly blind to any type of emotion. Ironic as it may be that he thrived off of girls such as her. Then again, those girls hadn't proven time and time again that they aren't who they pretend to be. They'd never accomplished what Clarke accomplished. They'd never had to wash the invisible blood of innocents off their hands only to find that it is a tattoo. They were just…there in a way that she would never be _just there. _

"When did we start lying to each other?" Bellamy took a swig of moonshine as he _felt _her presence. He wanted to capture the look on her face so he turned to find her eyebrows stitched together and her lips slightly parted. Clarke was thinking of an excuse, of a reason and he wasn't willing to let her do it. "It's selfish, you know? Why do you get to explore the world and fuck countless people while I have to take care of the kids, hmm? _Together, _dammit. You have to come home, Clarke or I swear to god…I swear to god, I'll leave too."

"You can't do that…"

"I don't take orders from you." He reminded her sternly, "It's not fair."

Clarke swallowed hard, "Then leave, Bellamy. Who am I to tell you differently?"

He wanted her to beg him to stay so he could do the same. He wanted her to fight him on his decision but she was refusing to engage. "I don't know who you are anymore, Clarke. You sentenced me to a goddamn purgatory while you what? Fuck Jason?"

"Why does it _matter _what I've been doing, Bellamy?" Clarke raised her voice, "It's not like I promised you that I wasn't going to move on from…from _Finn_. It's not like we had an agreement when we parted ways that we wouldn't screw around. _It's not like I'm yours_."

Bellamy inhaled sharply as if she'd punctured his lung. His eyes grew wide before he shook his head, "I just thought you left to fix yourself—to get your head right and then you would return to m—us. I thought you were trying to get better, find yourself again, and regain perspective. I didn't think you wouldn't come back, I didn't think you would build a life somewhere else and I definitely didn't think you'd be with some half-wit idiot named Jason. I know you. I know who you are, Clarke Griffin and you can't hide behind these lies because I see right through them."

"Is that what you think? You _know _me." Clarke's teeth connected with her lips so hard that Bellamy thought she would bleed in front of him. Like a shark, he wanted blood in the water. He was used to her bleeding, not attacking him on a personal level. "We don't know each other, Bellamy. Not really."

"Time? Is that what you want to use as a measurement of how well I know you? Fucking time?" He argued, reaching for her shoulders to steady her. He thought of shaking some sense into her but he reframed. "I know you…god, I know you."

Clarke started to shake her head back and forth, "I'm not enough, Bellamy…and if I stay here, I don't know—I don't know how to handle the future in this camp. I'm supposed to heal them but I don't even know where to start. Everyone's looking at me like I'm the second-coming and I'm just a teenager making a few decisions that no one agrees with."

-x-  
Review  
-x- 


	8. Chapter 8

"_I'm not perfect but I keep trying  
Cause that's what I said I would do from the start.  
I'm not alive if I'm lonely, so please don't leave.  
Was it something I said or just my personality?"_

_Perfect by Hedley _

-x-  
Clarke  
-x-

The crunch of branches startled her; her back pressed against a rotting log instantly tensed. Her fingers reached for the blade in her boots as a percussion. It was probably frivolous of her to leave camp but she needed air that was not deluded by the electric shock of a hauntingly safe, hauntingly homey fence. She kept her lips pursed, fighting the urge to call out to her possible attacker. Luckily, her nerves settled when she saw a familiar face. "Lincoln?"

"Hello, Clarke." If she wasn't focused on his face, she would have missed the light upturn of his lips. Her eyes darted around, searching for Octavia who seemed to be his shadow. The feisty, fire boiling brunette was not present. "I see you've found one of the few close hideouts from the camp…" She nodded because she lacked the ability to do anything else. Her confusion was expressed with stitched eyebrows and a slight pout to her bottom lip. Minutes passed as Lincoln reached down and began to shred an innocent leaf. His eyes flickered between her and his massacred green piece. "Everyone thinks they know _war _because they are soldiers…they fought…they killed but they don't know war, do they Clarke? Because war is _simple. _It's the moments between wartime and not where the real battle begins, where the real struggle takes place due to the inability to find normalcy."

Clarke snorted, "There is not normalcy between wars—there's only tension and built up. There will always be another war _here _because peace is an illusion." Her teeth connected with her lip, "The whole goddamn concept is an illusion."

"Concept?" There was something about his question that said he knew exactly what she was referring to, he just wanted her to _say _it.

With a heavy sigh, she relented and continued. "Happiness, family, unity, peace…love." She snorted once more, "It's all an illusion because there is only betrayal, pain, ulterior motives, tears and blood in this world. You betray your morals the second your feet hit the dirt. Your innocence is ravished, torn from you the second you inhale real air. And you're too fucking stupid to know that the planet you've dreamed about is a lie."

"You're angry."

Her eyes prickled and her voice croaked, "Of course I'm angry!" Then much quieter, "Of course I'm angry but there isn't even a specific reason. I'm _just _angry."

"Your people need you to be strong."

"They honestly aren't my people anymore."

"You're my people, Clarke…and they are my people—you might not be able to be their leader, you might not be able to handle it but you are an extension of the people that care about you…they are your people because you are my people. I've learned you take care of your own. If you can't keep your head above the water, ask for a hand—certainly, you will find one extended towards you."

_This is the most I've heard him talk. Ever. _

"I…I am not that person anymore."

"I am not the same person I was yesterday and I will not be the same person tomorrow. You can't run away, Clarke. You can't turn your back on the people that _need _you." He sighed heavily, clearly about to overstep some boundaries with the tentative look in his eyes. "I don't know much about your father but I've heard the stories, the legend from your friends…would he abandoned his people due to his reservations?"

"Just because I like you, I'll let you walk away with all of your fingers."

He chuckled, "Just because I like you, I'll pretend you could ever get the drop on me."

"Does the destruction of greenery make you feel better?"

-x-  
Octavia  
-x-

"Hey, have you seen Lincoln?" Octavia ran into her brother's quarters with a thin-lipped expression. Lincoln had the habit of sneaking in and out of the camp but she couldn't remember the last time he'd been gone _this _long. Seeing as he betrayed his people, Octavia worried. Bellamy shrugged, running his long fingers through his hair. The rims of his eyes were swollen, the tell-tale sign that their fearless unofficial leader had reached his limits for the night. It was very rare that she could observe her older brother breaking down before her like a child. She steeled her face before confronting him, "Clarke?"

He released a wry laugh, "Not everything is about her."

"She's just the way Earth tilts on its axis." Clearly, his sister was eavesdropping on the miniscule classes the more intellectually savvy conducted around the camp. This made his chest swell with pride because she was still _learning. _"Clarke—"

"Does it matter? She's leaving, Octavia. There's nothing left to be said. Clarke is leaving and we're lucky that she even felt obligated to warn us in the first place." He sounded extremely bitter with the entire situation. "There isn't a damn person who can change her mind, there aren't words…there are gestures…she's made up her mind and everyone knows that once she's made her mind, there's no going back."

"Clarke's an idiot, Bellamy." Octavia said matter-of-factly as if the greatest scientist would agree with her. "A selfish, scared, little, broken idiot…and she's not herself. All the fight she had is gone and the only thing she's focused on is getting the hell out of here because…because I put the blame on her. I put the blame on her and so did Jasper because we didn't want the weight of our actions and Clarke was too willing, too easy to throw it off on." She sucked in a deep breath, "It's our fault, Bell and I'm so sorry I ruined this for you…and I know you're going to say that Clarke made her own choices, too but we put her in a position to make those choices. And, I think if we voted they'd do it again despite the results."

"I offered to take some of the blame…I could help her…"

She shook her head, "It's not that easy and you _know _it. Clarke cares about you…so, she would never let you do that in the first place." He focused his brown eyes on her until Octavia found herself cupping his face. It was something she hadn't done in a long time. Her affection was oddly limited to her boyfriend. "And it's because she cares about you, and unrightfully me, and Raven and Monty and Wick that she leaves…it's because she loves, she leaves. It's because we haven't given her a _real _reason to stay, either."

"What are you getting at, O?"

"I'm going to make Clarke stay."

_Review!_

_Power-couple Linctavia strikes!_

_Let me know—I'm sort of blowing this characterization thing but *shrugs* I like Bellarke. Sue me._

_-Brooke._

_PS Thanks for the continued support. The reviews mean everything to me. I'm so shocked with the feedback for this story and I hope it continues. Everyone's reviews have been extremely motivating and I probably would have given up on this story without them. _


End file.
